Ambrosia
by Nekocin
Summary: [AUish, Yuutacentric, one shot] The day when Yuuta first entered St. Rudolph is the day when he steps into someone else's li, no, space.


**Ambrosia  
Author:** Nekocin  
**Genres:** Horror/Drama  
**Type:** One-shot  
**Warnings:** possible OoC, OC  
**Pairings:** implied Mizuki+Yuuta  
**Rated:** PG13 -- R  
**Additional notes:** shounen ai, mentions of obsessive behaviour  
**Disclaimer:** **Prince of Tennis **doesn't belong to me.  
**Dedicated to Yoshikochan 3 (because you wanted a horror story)  
Author's notes:** Originally, this one shot was already written a few months back. I hadn't posted it up because I felt it needed some changes. **:sighs:** Nothing changed though, so I might as well post it up. The other reason why didn't post it immediately is because I had been a bit afraid what people might think of this. After letting a much too eager friend—a fellow-classmate—who doesn't know the series and who probably and hopefully didn't catch the shounen ai implication, read this one shot (she even let her boyfriend read my one shot **O.o**) and comment on it (she loved it), I guess I should post it anyways.

_The day when Yuuta first entered St. Rudolph is the day when he steps into someone else's li-, no, space._

* * *

It had been a Sunday, exactly at 11:49 PM, when he appeared—when I met him.  
I hadn't any idea of why someone would come to this room—my old room, my sanctuary. 

I'd thought it would be avoided, but instead—there he was, standing at the door and ignoring my sanctuary's interior as he stuffed the keys in his white-blue jersey.

I'd noticed the baggage at his feet, which instantly, of course, meant that this guy was going to inhabit this room—my room.

His dull, dark indigo eyes gave away his childish looks, along with the thin set of lips and the cross mark on his forehead; I'd estimated that he must have been no older than 14 when he came into my l-, --no, that's not the word—, when he came into my space.

The last thing he did, after pulling his baggage inside, was stumbling onto my old bed and fall asleep instantly.

I'd watched him. I'd watched how his chest heave up and down with every even, short breaths he'd taken. It was probably the first time I'd watched someone sleep from up close; so strange, so uninvited and yet so right.

I didn't know what exactly had made me want to learn more about my fellow-roommate—maybe it was because of the cross mark, or maybe it was because of the sadness I'd noticed in his eyes, or maybe it was because of his childish looks.

Either way, I'd started watching him—not too closely, not too far.

... Fuji Yuuta... that's his name. Not too bad, not too kinky; just plain.

From what I could gather, whenever I followed him through classes the first week, just to get to know him; he was a transfer student from Seisshun Gakuen, had a loving family, loved to play tennis and had a sort of attachment to beating anyone who called him "Fuji's younger brother".

He wasn't such a bad kid himself, actually. He did his homework before heading to the courts, trained a lot, called his family once a week and visited them occasionally but he always seemed to look sad, after having visited them.

It didn't take long, before he started crying himself to sleep at night.

I hadn't known the reason for his breakdowns, so I kept watching from the sidelines.  
Ironically, I started feeling (feeling?) sad too on such nights, and watched how the tears fell, without him knowing (since he was asleep) that he was crying, like the raindrops in the early morning. They were moments when Fuji Yuuta was vulnerable, when he wasn't exactly hotheaded, when he was simply far from being plain.

And they were the moments I started getting attached, feeling more interested. I began stalking him after two months of silently watching him from afar. I followed him closely when he went to class, when he went to tennis practice—almost hovering behind him like a shadow.

Relatively speaking, I probably was.

It went far indeed – it went so far that I knew about the little things like whenever he stepped out of the bathroom, he would smell like... Jasmine (such a feminine choice of soap), whenever he would stand _-so casually- _straight, whenever he would lightly blush of all the smallest teasing he received from his friends...

The ritual of watching him fall asleep every night grew on to me—I'd wanted more and went too far.

I'd kissed him and awakened him to reality. Yuuta caught on to what's happening behind his back (smart guy!) and for the first time he showed fear. He didn't know who I was, or where I was, but he did know there's something –or someone- near him. He felt my presence –even if for a moment— and slept restlessly.

I didn't know why exactly he feared my presence. Could he see me? Had he known about me from the teachers?

No, that wasn't right. It didn't make sense. He mustn't know. He shouldn't fear me. But he did.

He would stiffen when I came close, he would look over his shoulders when I followed him, he would throw himself against the wall when I entered the same room he was in...

It resulted in Yuuta frequently sleeping at one of his friends' room. He started to change his course and hung out with said friend more than in the beginning, probably searching for protection. Why would he need protection? Why would he need protection from that guy? I could protect him just fine.

But Yuuta didn't seem to care. He went farther away from me, not giving me chances to watch him sleep. Why so? He hadn't any problems with me watching him sleep, before. Why would he avoid me?

I felt frustrated.

I felt even more frustrated when I noticed Yuuta's 'shield', the friend, started making advances to the object of my affections. The friend with his oh-so-bad-fashion sense, started _-flirting-_ subtly with Yuuta. He started touching him... doing stuff –stuff that Yuuta somehow didn't mind—, and I watched on.

Yuuta shouldn't be near that guy. He shouldn't be giving the other those looks. He shouldn't be! Neither should Yuuta have stepped into my... space, my sanctuary.

I wouldn't have met him if he hadn't been here. I wouldn't have to watch him sleep every night. I wouldn't have tried to gather information about him... I wouldn't... I wouldn't have tried to kiss him...

So there I was, my phantom body hanging down from the ceiling with phantom ropes round my neck.

... swinging... swinging...

... lifelessly... unnoticed... because I've been dead for over 14 years.

**END **

TheNekoTalks:

It's so creepy writing thoughts to a ...erm... ghost... but anyways, at least I've got this one done. As for the title... it's more about the contradicting feelings the character is having that build up like some growing need, like the nectar the gods like to drink. **:sweatdrops:** It doesn't make sense, right? **:sweatdrops:**

**Thank you for reading! **

.:Nekocin:.


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